


Presence

by FanWriter



Category: Elementary
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-08 00:26:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3188900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanWriter/pseuds/FanWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joan misses Mycroft more than she's willing to admit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Presence

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after 'Seed Money'. The more I watch, the more I really can see Sherlock slipping into the older brother role.  
> The first part feels a little jumbled, but I like to think I did a good job on the rest. Thanks for reading.

The deadbolt gave a gentle click as it unlocked, and Joan quickly stepped inside. She wasn't so much worried about being spotted, people saw her coming and going out of the brownstone all the time. No, it was nerves. Instead of having take-out brought over, they'd decided to go to the pizza place itself, and Joan had excussed herself saying she needed to get up early in the morning. Sherlock and Kitty would be back soon.

She was glad for Kitty, really, and she was proud of Sherlock. A small part of her had initially, for the first few seconds, felt like she was being replaced. Then she realized, though, that she wasn't being replaced, Sherlock was just ... opening up the part of his heart that held Kitty a little deeper. She also felt like she and Sherlock had went to a deeper level as well. They danced around each other's feelings, until they gauged the other's reaction well enough to know whether what was about to be said would be better left unsaid or told. He was aware of other's feelings and he was demonstrating his knowledge more and more. He'd definitely come a long way from the old Sherlock he used to be.

Having made her way up the stairs on tip-toe, she put her lock-picking set back in her bag. She went over to one of the rooms Sherlock was keeping as storage and let herself in. There in the corner of the room, was a box. A box. That was all she and Sherlock had left of Mycroft Holmes - for now. She didn't know if he was okay, where he was, or when he was coming back. Just a box. She walked over and knelt down in front of it, reverently opening the top. She choked back a sob and smiled, running her fingers over the 'I Love New York' t-shirt she'd gotten him. She remembered him laughing, saying that it wasn't New York he was in love with. She picked up the shirt and held it close. That was why she was here really - the scent of him. To feel close to him. She told herself she wouldn't do this; that when he left, she would remain angry at him forever. This is the ninth time she'd caved, and craved the presence of him. She wrapped the shirt around her, to make a feeble attempt of feeling his arms around her, and let loose her cries into the collar. She allowed the memories to flood her mind, of their time her and in London. A laugh tried to come out admist her tears, remembering one of the rare times she'd seen Sherlock shocked, and Mycroft hadn't even said anything yet. Maybe that was way he moved in to 221B Baker Street - Mycroft missed his brother; just like she was missing him now. Burrying her face back into the shirt, she took deep breaths to try to calm herself down. She knew she couldn't hold the shirt long. That her scent would eventually replace his if she did, and she didn't know how much longer that the few shirts in the box would have to last - or if they'd be all she ever had left. The last thought made her break-down completely, and she just managed to fold the shirt and put it back with the rest before the flood of tears came and she fell on top of the box.

She turned, startled, not long after, at a hand on her shoulder. Looking up through watery eyes, she saw Sherlock. He seemed to struggle for the right thing to say, before deciding saying nothing at all would be best for the moment. She turned into his arms as he sat down beside her, holding her gently. Later, she learned that after bidding Kitty goodnight, Sherlock was about to go to bed himself when he saw a light peeking out from underneath the door across from his. She didn't care about that part though; just that when she needed a friend, a shoulder to cry on, he was there.


End file.
